Not knowing specifics would upset me in the beginning. Always nebulous was–and still is the recognized pattern, after many years of in-the-clouds drifting. Writing this has convinced myself that I prefer not knowing every detail to the early days of ever frequent err, actually. And while ruminating I found a personally interesting little post. May it speak to you as well.

Now, she’s like a character from a story, I tell myself. The mysterious femme fatal or innocent girl learning the ways of the world. It feels-like a movie trailer of our lives together that gives a tone, yet not too much of the plot.

A well-edited trailer: succinct and precise. For now, more exciting than the whole storyline, a taste before it happens on screen. Rated R at least. NC-17 at times. I am speaking of my wife and I.

If our relationship so far were a scripted narrative it would be after the protagonist thinks she or he knows, yet actually he doesn’t. It’s dramatic irony. It’s the thinking you know. Another detail that used to irritate, yet entices now. As I’ve learned from the masters of The East: Things are not what they seem, nor are they otherwise. Or, to continue with the filmic, a perceived formulaic plot with a something’s-going-to-happen suspense lingering. “This is getting good,” we’d say watching.

As a B movie this comparison would be the foreseen twist in a sloppy plot, the hole in the story, or in a blockbuster, the necessary exposition scene (making the film good so far, but not great).

In a cinematic masterpiece, though (very much like any great relationship) what seems there, is not, when in the hands of a true artist. The pacing, emotion, suspension of disbelief changes unexpectedly. Abruptly maybe, or with a finesse that subtly has brought you to an unexpected place. A delicately inserted accidental arrival to a plot point, made to seem easy, partially calculated, measured, yet, in the end, allowed to let-go to do what it must for the cohesion of the whole.

There is only so-much one can control. In simplistic terms a requires ambiguity. The extended metaphor still keeping together?

I want my marriage to be cinema. Avant-garde, Art Cinema with a bold and capital “C”, so slowing down the pace, my wife and I, are barely entering Act II of a Felliniesque experience, or we might still be in Act I, it’s unclear. And that’s okay. Many things have been measured and calculated to the best of our abilities, yet life continues-on, ambiguously at times. Things happen that happen. We are not even at the best part of the movie, yet. Not questioning out loud frees-up the narrative’s motivation.

Not understanding why a person does what they do is dramatic, frustrating, and, maybe even, annoying, yet it is exactly why we keep watching, or in our real-life relationship, what creates intimacy.

The classic question awakens: Does life imitate art or art life? How many times has “art” contributed to actual behavior I wonder. In my case dozens. I’ve been influenced by stories since I personalized the lyrics of The Beatles–and I’m not even a boomer.

If we switch to television or a streaming internet series we get impetus for Bingeing 101–“I promise, I promise, I won’t stay-up too late–I know, I know I gotta get-up early tomorrow.”

Isn’t staying-up and waking-up tired, lack-of-sleep in the eyes, mind and body, spent and sore the point? How many scenes have depicted that general synopsis. Even movies copy each other. The clichéd “good artist”, “great artists steals” quote does (or could) benefit so many lives is my point, in the moving image as well as in real relationships.

I umbrella all those topics to nostalgia, so when my synapses and neurological connections feel like this Bansky piece I create a musical listing (what I’m calling a Playlist as I write this since this seems to be the current name as of 2014 Autumn).

There is something about stopping and spending time ordering music, listening?

The feel and tonal cadences slow things down, return to an organic pace. The chaotic brain buzz freezes and forces a precise focus. For me, anyway.

Whatever creating a playlist does, it neutralizes an electric, free-radical existence right away.

If this post triggers anything, order these tracks wherever you list tracks, and see if it does anything for you.

If the link acts dead, input nostalgia in the Word Press search line and all should be okay.

I posted this for a CD Ring I contribute to a couple months back:

Now, for those of you that, blog, app, tweet, or thread, the setlist is @ mgalin1.wordpress.com/?=nostalgia.

The hyper texted post sets-up both the impetus for creation of “Redux: Non Nostalgic Nostalgia” and the CD’s musical theme, premise, and overall musical form. Njoy.

If living a digital life makes the 21st century singular, as it does for me, augment my reality by commenting or adding your own links on any or all of our respective platforms.

How? Search 2multo on your browser of choice or find me on YouTube under both M. Saldivar Galindo and 2multo.